Hush, Hush: As Told by Patch
by S.Ashleigh.0211
Summary: Patch is an all around bad boy. But every bad boy has their dirty little secret. His is the fact that he wants to be human. Follow Patch through his menacing decisions...Nora or a human body? Human or guardian angel? Enjoy reading the emotions and secrets of everyone's favorite bad boy... DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own the rights to the characters or plot.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Loire Valley, France: November 1565

I am waiting quietly for _him. _I need him, well, I need his body. I reviewed the plan in my head. It was really was a simple one. Step one: wait for him to be alone, and step two: force him to give me what I want. And I will get what I want, I always do. I need to feel again, whether it's pain or the soft touch of my silk shirt. The last thing I felt was so unbearable it hurts to think about.

Here he comes; Chauncey is saying goodbye to a farmer's daughter. He gives her a shoe buckle and waits for her to scurry off before he turns and walks through the cemetery. There is no one around, no one to hear the screams that could occur if he doesn't cooperate. I am standing on top of a monument that has a statue of an angel on it. The darkness and rain probably make me appear as a statue. I jump down in an effort to startle him, it works.

"Who goes there?" Chauncey asked aloud as he nervously played with the hilt of his sword.

My lips twitch upward.

"Do not play games with the Duc de Langeais," Chauncey warns, "I asked for your name. Give it."

"Duc?" I ask as I lean against a twisting willow tree, "Or bastard?"

That did it, I see him crack. He draws his sword trying to look fierce, but with his arms shaking it is more comedic than anything. Plus, he couldn't kill me if he wanted to. I'm immortal.

"Take it back! My father was the Duc de Langeais. I'm the Duc de Langeais now," he mutters clumsily.

I shake my head at him, "Your father wasn't the old duc."

Chauncey was obviously beyond his patience. This is exactly how I wanted him, impulsive and judgment impaired. "And _your _father?" he seethes. He raises his sword and makes eye contact with me, like he's trying to decide if he knows my family name. "I'll ask once more," he says brusquely as he uses his hand to clear his face from the rain droplets, "Who are you?"

I walk up to him and push the arm with the blade downward. The way his eyes widen as he appraises me tells me that he hadn't realized my physical condition. I look as old as or maybe even older than him. "One of the Devil's brood," I revealed.

I watch as fear envelops Chauncey. Teeth bared he says "You're a raving lunatic, get out of my way."

I place an image inside his head, the ground is tilting, red and gold bursts pop behind his eyes. He hunches over in pain, gasping and panting, he looks at me with hate and questions swimming in his eyes. His mind is in my control now.

I crouch down to his eye level, "Listen carefully. I need something from you. I won't leave until I have it. Do you understand?"

He shakes his head and tries to spit at me, but it dribbles down his chin instead. I don't do defiance. My hands are quickly wrapping his throat, the heat within them burning him. "I need your oath of fealty," I hiss, "Bend on one knee and swear it."

He is still fighting it, bad decision. Within seconds he is struggling against an invisible force that has him doubling over onto one knee.

"Swear it," I repeat.

Chauncey is out of options, I can tell he hates me and himself for doing it, but he does.

"Lord, I become your man," he chokes out.

I raise him to a standing position and then say, "Meet me here at the start of the Hebrew month of Cheshvan. During the two weeks between new and full moons, I'll need your service."

His frame trembles uncontrollably, "A…_fortnight_?" His rage is tangible, "_I am the Duc de Langeais!"_

I smile a little bit, "You are a Nephil."

"What did you say," he says with icy venom.

You belong to the biblical race of Nephilim. Your real father was an angel who fell from heaven. You're half mortal," He raises his eyes to meet mine, "Half fallen angel." I am laughing to myself while he tries to comprehend what this means.

"Who are you?" He asks, more in fear than in rage now.

I walk away, he cannot follow me. But he still calls out, "Are you- fallen?" Shit, forgot I didn't have a shirt on. He saw the scars on my back.

Chauncey called out, "Your wings have been stripped, haven't they?" I didn't answer nor turn around, but I knew that he knew that he was right.

Again he called after me, "This service I'm to provide, I demand to know what it is."

The sound of my laughter bounced off the trees and headstones, filling the late night air.


	2. A Visit From an Old Friend

Chapter One

Coldwater, Maine: Present Day

Bo's Arcade was like a second home to me. If someone was looking for me, their best bet is Bo's. I am constantly hustling people in pool and poker. The gambling aspect of Bo's was a large part of what drew me to it. I was an expert gambler, even before I had fallen; only the bravest of the angels would play me in a game of gleek or piquet. I figured since I had already gambled my angel status away there wasn't much left to lose.

Smoke filled my nose as I breathed in the polluted air from Bo's basement. I looked down at the cards in my hand, the five and nine of spades, a pair of aces and a king of diamonds, I was considering my options. The other two aces were on the table along with the two and three of hearts and the king of diamonds. I looked around the room, observing the other players, while carefully maintain the perfect poker face. I was playing Texas Hold 'Em and I was counting on leaving with a brand new television and plenty of cash. I could smell the fear radiating from the other guys at the table. I am very good at this game, and they know it. With a smug grin, I pushed a stack of chips amounting to five hundred dollars into the pile accumulating in the middle of the table. Everyone accept one person folds, he is new to Bo's, poor guy. When our lasts bets were made the pot totaled somewhere around two thousand dollars. We showed our hands. I won. A new hand was dealt out, no special bets this time, just whatever is in the pot.

I heard footsteps clambering down the stairs, and I had a feeling it was a message for me. I looked up to see Bo's cashier standing next to me. He appeared nervous; he obviously didn't want to be disturbing me right now.

"Someone upstairs wants a word with you," he stutters.

That was vague. I raised my eyebrows and waved my hand, prompting him to continue, without dignifying him with a verbal response.

"She wouldn't give her name, I asked a couple of times," he continued defensively, "I told her you were in a private game, but she wouldn't leave." He looked at me, trying to judge my expression that was as masked as ever. As a last resort Cashier Boy says, "I can throw her out if you want."

To be completely honest, I was intrigued by this mystery girl. Bo isn't the smallest or friendliest guy in the world, so the fact she insisted on seeing me is interesting. "No. Send her down." I watched only for a second as Bo trudged back upstairs. Looking back at the cards in my hand, not very good anyway, I decide to stop playing. "I'm out," I declared. I folded and collected my large stack of chips before sauntering over to an empty pool table. I set myself to be leaning back on the table with the perfect angle to see the girl coming down the stairs.

I'm momentarily stunned. It's her, why is she here? It can only be bad news. The shock that covered my face was just as quickly erased and replaced by a neutral face. Her long, straight blond hair fell down to her waist as she descended the stairs. She was wearing a pink tank top and painted on jeans, and oh yeah, she was barefoot. If she didn't look like she was trying to sell the innocent look already, she was sucking on a lollipop too. But I knew better.

"Dabria?" I said out loud.

She took the lollipop out and trashed it as she smiled at me, "How have you been?"

What you see is almost never what you get when it comes to Dabria. This angel of death had ulterior motives. Popping in to see her ex-boyfriend without cause was not like her. "What are you doing here?"

Her smile turned devious, "I sneaked out. I had to see you again. I've been trying for a long time, but security- well it's not exactly lax." She paused and her smile faded slightly, "Your kind and my kind- we aren't supposed to mix. But you know that."

"Coming here was a bad idea," I pointed out.

She pouted, "I know it's been a while, but I was hoping for a slightly more friendly reaction."

I don't answer.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you." Dabria lowered her voice, in a very sexy way and stepped toward me, "It wasn't easy getting down here. Lucianna is making excuses for why I'm absent. I'm risking her future as well as my own. Don't you want to at least hear what I have to say?" She bats her eyelashes.

She's not affecting me like she wants to, "Talk." I am not even close to trusting her.

"I'm haven't given up on you. This whole time-" Her eyes were watering, she held in her tears and continued, "I know how you can get your wings back."

She then smiled like she was giving me the world, I didn't return the gesture. There is no way it's possible, some fallen angel would've figured it out by now.

"As soon as you get your wings back, you can come home," She spoke with complete and utter confidence. "Everything will be like it was before. Nothing has changed. Not _really."_

Did she think it would be that easy? "What's the catch?"

"There is no catch," she beamed, "You have to save a human life. Very judicious, considering the crime that banished you here in the first place."

She thought she was doing me favor, I didn't ask for this. There was only one question I needed answered. "What rank will I be?"

All confidence Dabria was just showing shattered "I just told you how to get your wings back," she noted condescendingly, "I think I deserve a _thank –you-_"

I cut her off, "Answer the question." I knew the answer to my question. I just wanted to hear it from her mouth, confirm my worst fears.

"Fine," she admitted, "You'll be a guardian, all right?"

I throw my head back and chuckle. This must be a damn joke. She's known me for a _long _time, how could she possibly think I'd settle for being a guardian? I was an archangel, a leader.

"What's wrong with being a guardian?" Dabria insisted, "Why isn't it good enough?" By that she meant why isn't she good enough.

"I have something better in the works," I put simply. But I have to give her credit; she was a persistent little thing.

"Listen to me Patch. There is _nothing_ better," her voice was full of surprise, rejection and hopelessness, "You're kidding yourself. Any other fallen angel would jump at the chance to get their wings back and become a guardian. Why can't you?"

I pushed up from the pool table, "It was good seeing you again, Dabria. Have a nice trip back." I started to walk away from her when she grabbed fistfuls of my shirt and pressed her mouth against mine with fervor. Why not? I turned my body towards her and ran my hands down her arms.

After a long moment she broke away, "I should go. I've already stayed too long. I promised Lucianna I'd hurry." She laid her head on my chest and softly whispered, "I miss you. Save one human life and you'll have your wings again," she was practically begging now, "Come back to me. Come home." She pulled back, "I have to go. None of the others can find out I've been down here. I love you." With that, she turned around and began to walk away.

I grabbed her wrist, "Now tell me why you're really here." My tone was dark and demanding. My face told her she had better quit the act before she really pissed me off.

I pushed her towards the bar and put her into a seat. I took the one next to it. I leaned in close because the music was loud.

"What do you mean, what am I here for?" Dabria stuttered, "I told you-"

"You're lying," I growled.

Her mouth was agape, "I can't believe you-you think-"

There is no way she thought I'd just accept her alternative because she loved me. "Tell me the truth," I threatened, "Right now."

After a small hesitation and a killer glare, "Fine. I know what you're planning to do."

I laughed, I had a lot of plans, and I wondered which one she was referring to.

"I know you've heard rumors about _The Book of Enoch_," She accused, "I also know you think you can do the same thing, but you can't."

I folded my arms on top of the bar, "They sent you here to persuade me to choose a different course, didn't they? If I'm a threat, the rumors must be true." Here presence here was more than enough confirmation.

"No, they're not." She denied hopelessly, "They're _rumors._"

Her words don't tell me what her face does, "If it happened once, it can happen again."

She is controlling her expression again. Confidence restored she says, "It never happened. Did you even bother to read _The Book of Enoch_ before you fell? Do you know exactly what it says, word for holy word?" she challenged.

"Maybe you could loan me your copy," I wasn't even close to joking.

She wailed, "That's blasphemous! You're _forbidden_ to read it! You betrayed every angel in heaven when you fell."

I know her, and I know I can get what I want, "How many of them know what I'm after? How big of a threat am I?" I started with easy questions.

She shook her head furiously, "I can't tell you that. I've already told you more than I should have."

I could see the urge to give me whatever I wanted gleam in her eyes, she truly did love me. I was about to test how much, "Are they going to try to stop me?"

She speaks clearly, "The avenging angels will." Was she trying to scare me?

I looked at her with sincerity, forcing the memories of us back into her mind, "Unless they think you talked me out of it."

"Don't look at me like that," she tried to sound definite, "I won't lie to protect you. What you're trying to do is wrong. It's not natural." She was so close to snapping.

"Dabria," I whispered with fake longing. It was a low blow, because our entire relationship meant almost nothing to me. But I knew it meant everything to her.

"I _can't_ help you," implying that she desperately wanted to, "Put it out of your mind. Become a guardian angel. Focus on that and forget _The Book of Enoch._"

I planted my elbows on the bar top and thought for a moment. I could get it out of her if I really wanted. She would do anything for me, except maybe fall. I immediately understood the meaning behind her visit. She wanted me back; she wanted me to be an angel so she could have me again. Trouble was I didn't want her again. But having someone on the inside is always helpful.

"Tell them we talked, and I showed interest in becoming a guardian,"

"Interest?" she questioned, unbelieving.

I repeated myself. "Interest. Tell them I asked for a name. If I'm going to save a life, I need to know who's at the top of your departing list," I affirmed, "I know you're privy to that information as an angel of death."

"That information is sacred and private, and not predictable. The events in this world shift from moment to moment depending on human choices-"

"One name, Dabria," I coaxed.

She yielded, "Promise me you'll forget about _The Book of Enoch_ first. Give me your word."

That was laughable, "You'd trust my word?"

"No, I wouldn't," she receded.

I laughed out loud at that point, took a toothpick from the dispenser, and walked towards stairs. She would follow, or stop me, I knew her too well.

"Patch, wait-" She fretted as she hopped off the bar stool, "Patch, please wait!"

I looked back over my shoulder, she was coming closer.

"Nora Grey," she threw her hands over her mouth.

I frowned slightly, annoyance mixed with disbelief. That can't be. I had tracked her down to be a descendant of Chauncey. She was my ticket to a human body, a single sacrifice. My plan would be completely messed up if she died before I had the chance to kill her myself. "How is she going to die?" I asked.

"Someone wants to kill her," she says with absolute certainty.

"Who?"

Covering her ears and shaking her head rapidly, "I don't know. There's too much noise and commotion down here. All the images blur together, they come too fast, I can't see clearly. I need to go home. I need peace and calm."

I reached and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and gave her a very seductive look. She shuddered under my touch, gave a small nod, and closed her eyes. "I can't see…I don't see anything… it's useless."

I urged gently, "Who wants to kill Nora Grey?"

Her voice was anxious, "Wait, I see her. There's a shadow behind her. It's _him_. He's following her. She doesn't see him… but he's right _there_. Why doesn't she see him? Why isn't she running? I can't see his face, it's in shadow…."

She gasped, choking on the air she just breathed in. Her eyes were wide in shock.

"Who?" I asked.

She was trembling with her hand s at her mouth when she looked me in the eyes and said, "You."

Shock cracked my controlled mask of emotion. No one else was planning to kill her, but the angels _did _know my plan, I was going to kill Nora Grey, and they wanted me to save her. This one insignificant girl has my future resting in her hands.

Dabria's tone was thick with confusion, "Why do want to kill Nora Grey? Is it in spite of the angels? Is it because I told you to save her?"

Why lie? Dabria wouldn't tell anyone anyway, "She happens to be related to Chauncey, my Nephil vassal."

Her face was covered with horror, "Patch!" She clawed at my arms as I started up the stairs.

"You can't tell the other angels, you know that, right?" I laid out the persuasiveness nice and thick, "Goodbye, Dabria." And with that, I walked out of Bo's Arcade.


	3. A Cheshvan Decision

A big thank you to anyone who has read/favorited/followed this story. It's my first fanfic, and I am really excited about it.. I promise I'll try to be better about posting regularly. Leave a review!

Chapter 2

It had been two months since Dabria visited me at Bo's Arcade. During those two months I had dug up more than enough information on Nora Grey. In a word, she was attractive boring. She would only be mourned by her mother and her best friend, so I'm not killing the next Miss America.

I was sitting in the Coldwater cemetery. I was supposed to meet Rixon somewhere an hour ago. We were going to hunt down our vassals and start Cheshvan off right. We spent two weeks every year in a nephil's body so we could have the ability to feel things. The problem was, I didn't want two weeks, I wanted forever in my own_ human _body.

I heard footsteps in the distance followed by a familiar voice, "Moonlighting with the dead?" Rixon leaned against headstone across from the one I was sitting on. His rough Irish accent bellowed through the air, "Let me guess. You've got it in your mind to possess the dead?" He shook his head, "I don't know… Maggots squirming in your eyeholes… and your other orifices, might be carrying things a bit too far."

Only he would say something like that. I retorted, "This is why I keep you around, Rixon. Always seeing things from the bright side."

"Cheshvan starts tonight," he pointed out, "What are you doing arsing around a graveyard?"

"Thinking."

He questioned, "Thinking?"

I gave him a smart ass response, "A process by which I use my brain to make a rational decision." But the decision I was trying making was definitely not rational, it was slightly crazy.

Rixon frowned, "I'm starting to worry about you. Come on. Time to go. Chauncey Langeais and Barnabus await. The moon turns at midnight. I confess I've got my eye on a betty in town," he purred like a cat, "I know you like them red, but I like 'em fair, and once I get into a body, I intend to take of unfinished business with a blonde who was making eyes at me earlier."

I didn't move, still thinking deeply about whether a becoming a guardian is good enough to replace a possibility of a human life.

"Are you daft? We've got to _go._ Chauncey's oath of fealty. Not ringing a bell?" he continued to speak, "How about this. You're a fallen angel. You can't feel a thing. Until tonight, that is. The next two weeks are Chauncey's gift to you. Given unwillingly, mind you." He had an evil grin on his face.

I looked at him desperately, "What do you know about _The Book of Enoch_?"

"About as much any other fallen angel: slim to none," he pointed out.

I went for broke, "I was told there's a story in _The Book of Enoch_. About a fallen angel who becomes human."

I expected his reaction, though I hated him for it. He laughed hysterically, "You lost your mind, mate?" He made a book with his hands, "_The Book of Enoch_ is a bedtime story. And a good one, by the looks of it. Sent you straight to dreamland."

"I want a human body."

"You'd best be happy with two weeks and a Nephil's body. Half human is better than nothing," he reasoned, "Chauncey can't undo what's been done. He swore an oath, and he has to live up to it. Just like last year. And the year before that-"

I cut him off, "Two weeks isn't enough. I want to be human. Permanently." I glared at him, daring him to laugh again.

He ran his hands through his hair, "_The Book of Enoch _is a fairy tale. We're fallen angels, not humans. We never were human, and we never will be. End of story. Now quit arsing around and help figure out which is the way to Portland."

I've made my decision. I hop off the headstone, "I'm going to become human." I'm going to kill Nora Grey.

"Sure, mate, sure you can," he said.

I've never been more serious, "_The Book of Enoch_ says I have to kill my Nephil vassal. I have to kill Chauncey."

Rixon grew impatient, "No, you don't. You've got to _possess _him. A process by which you take his body and use it as your own. Not to put a damper on things, but you can't kill Chauncey. Nephilim can't die. And have you thought of this? If you could kill him, you couldn't possess him."

He overlooked one detail, "If I kill him, I'll become human and I won't need to possess him."

I didn't care what he was saying, and he knew that. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tipped his head back, like I was giving him some kind of headache.

"If we could kill Nephilim, we would have found a way by now. I'm sorry to tell you lad, but if I don't get into the arms of that blond betty soon, my brains will bake. And a few other parts of my-"

"Two choices."

He looked at me funny, "Eh?"

"Save a life and become a guardian angel," I insisted, "or kill your Nephil vassal and become human. Take your pick."

"Is this more_ The Book of Enoch_ rubbish?"

"Dabria paid me a visit."

His eyes widened, and he chuckled, "Your psychotic ex?" The questions kept coming, "What's she doing down here? Did she fall? Lost her wings, did she?"

"She came down to tell me I can get my wings back if I save a human life," I confessed.

Rixon's eyes got even wider, "If you trust her, I say go for it. Nothing wrong with being a guardian. Spending your days keeping mortals out of danger…could be fun, depending on the mortal you're assigned."

I posed a question, "But if you had a choice?"

He joked, "Aye, well, my answer depends on one very important distinction. Am I roaring drunk… or have I completely lost my mind?" He was expecting me to laugh. I didn't, so he continued soberly, "There's no choice. And here's why. I don't believe in _The Book of Enoch_. If I were you, I'd aim for guardianship. I'm half considering the deal myself. Too bad I don't know any humans on the brink of death."

I let go of the subject, because he obviously thought I was crazy or stupid. After a slight pause I perked up, "How much money do you think we can make before midnight?"

"Playing cards or boxing?"

"Cards," I answer simply.

His eyes were sparkling now. "What do we have here? A pretty boy? Come here and let me give you a proper clatter."

After a few minutes of us rolling around throwing playful punches, he surrendered.

"All right, all right! Just 'cause I can't feel a bloody lip doesn't mean I want to spend the rest of the night walking around with one," he winked, "Won't increase my chances with the ladies."

I made a joke, "And a black eye will?"

He thought I was serious. His hand flew up to his face, feeling around his eye, "You didn't!"

I took off at full speed when he swung at me with a fist.

"Catch me if you can!" I yelled back towards him.

We ran all the way back to Bo's Arcade, looking to pick up some cash. I was always best at poker and pool, whereas Rixon preferred boxing and robbing people. But neither of his hobbies occurs at Bo's on a regular basis, and we had to stay in town. In two hours' time, I had won four hands of poker, and hustled five suckers in pool, raking in over two grand in cash, a Rolex, and a new leather jacket. During the same time, Rixon had won a hand of Texas Hold 'Em, beat three teenagers at eight ball and convinced a twenty –something lady to steal from her boyfriend. He left with about five hundred dollars, the girl's phone number, and a lipstick stain on his face.

We left around 11:30, so we could be at the dealership in time to listen to Chauncey and Barnabus tell us how it would be different next Cheshvan. They have given the same speech for hundreds of years, but the situation never changes. An oath is an oath, and there is nothing they can do about it.

When we got there the Nephil's are already waiting. Glad to see they are accepting the inevitable. The year before they made us track them down. I had to travel to Montreal to find Chauncey, and I was so pissed I made his body a living Hell. I killed anyone that called or visited him, I got him addicted to some substance a scraggly homeless man was selling, and I cut all his hair off, which he had a strange obsession with.

"You boys ready? Especially you Barnabus, I found a pretty girl in Portland we're going to visit," called Rixon, while he bounced on his toes and swung his arms, getting pumped up.

Barnabus grumbled, "I go by Hank now, have for the last fifty years."

Chauncey was staring at the ground with pure hatred, I almost feel bad. Except I don't because his race shouldn't even be alive. It was five minutes to midnight and I couldn't stop thinking about humans. How much I envied them, how much I wanted to be them.

Chauncey looked up at me and my eyes pierced his soul, I didn't want his body. I wanted so much more than two weeks in a half-human. But Rixon was right; I was going to have to take what I could get.

The clock struck midnight and I willed myself into his body. He was struggling against my presence, but he never was strong enough to expel me. I made myself comfortable inside his thoughts, and sifted through the ones I hadn't yet heard. The majority of the recent thoughts were about hating me and the oath; I didn't care enough to go back farther than a few weeks.

I looked over and saw Hank's body stretching his arms and legs. I asked if Rixon was in there, and he nodded at me.

"We have to get to Portland, mate. That blond betty isn't going to wait forever."

I shrugged, "Let's go then."

Rixon and I spent the next two weeks wasting Chauncey's and Hank's money and using their bodies for our personal pleasure. Rixon continuously told me that he was having the best Cheshvan ever. I, on the other hand, was just going through the emotions. A Nephil body wasn't what I wanted, I enjoyed feeling the physical touch and texture of everything, but it was just a tease, I wasn't allowed to keep it.

My dilemma was haunting me, human or angel. This year made everything clear, I wanted what Chauncey had; I wanted to be able to feel the touch of polyester and silk and flesh. If my decision was unclear to me before, I knew after I was expelled from Chauncey's body that Cheshvan. I wouldn't be possessing Chauncey's body again next year, because he would be dead, I would be human, and an innocent girl was going to pay the ultimate price.


	4. The First Encounter

_**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews and follows! I really appreciate it! This chapter is reallylong, but it is the first time they actually meet SO, I think it deserves to be. Keep reviewing, it inspires me to continue writing. ENJOY**_

Chapter 3

It was the end of February, and Rixon and I were sitting at a table in the back of Enzo's Bistro where the lighting didn't entirely reach. Enzo's is a quaint café mostly taken up by respectable high school students of Coldwater. In other words, it was not the kind of place where you would find me hanging around.

I had requested to be seated at the table in the back because it was shadowy area, where I wouldn't attract a lot of attention. There was a candle on my table; the flame was smothered between my fingers as soon as I sat down though. Rixon was visually bored, sprawled out in his chair across from me.

I rocked my chair on to the back two legs, stretched my arms, placed them behind my head, and stared pointedly at the entrance. I was running some more surveillance on this Nora Grey girl, and this appeared to be her favorite place to grab a bite to eat.

I was still watching the doors when Rixon began to sing, "_I'll wait for you till I turn blue. There's nothing more a man can do. Ya drank with demons straight from_"-he paused-"_Hell. They nearly won as well_."

I smiled and looked at him, "Warming up for your _American Idol_ audition?"

He kicked me under the table, "When are you going to tell me what you're up to?"

I tried to play it off, "Up to?"

He raised his eyebrows incredulously, "We've been coming here- Enzo's is it? - Every Thursday night round eight. Five weeks in a row. And you thought I didn't notice."

So he had caught on more than I gave him credit for. Damn it. I wasn't ready to confess my reasons, so I stalled, praying that he hadn't picked out the object of my fixation.

"Four weeks," I corrected.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, "The lad _can _count."

I lied, "They have a good coffee."

"Right then," he countered, "Trouble with that is, you can't taste it. Moving on to lie number two, then?"

"I like the atmosphere," I offered up.

Rixon was bugging out, his eyes almost popping out of his head, "Every girl in this place is under twenty. What do you say we scam up some birds a little closer to our own age…seven hundred, at least."

"I'm not here for the girls," I sighed. But to myself I was saying _just one of them._ Thinking about her made me subtly check my watch and flicker my eyes back to the door. _She_ should be here soon.

"Not here for the girls. Not here for the gambling, the drinking, the fighting," he ranted, "By all accounts, we're blowing a perfectly good night in a _reputable_ establishment. Either you've started listening to the wee little angel on your shoulder, or that iniquitous brain of yours is tossing around some scheme."

"And?"

Rixon was wrong; the angel on my shoulder had been silenced and tied up a long time ago. I was driven by my desire to satisfy my own personal wants and needs. And right now, all I want is to get my human body. The ultimate prize.

"And I'm betting on the latter. What I want to know is what worthwhile scheme involves a squeaky clean high school hang out?" he questioned as he glanced around the room trying to understand.

I was looking out the window by the door when I saw her familiar shadow jogging to get inside. It was pouring out there, and the girl was running with her hands above her head, pathetically trying to shield her hair from the rain. When she reached the door she pushed it open extra far, allowing enough time for her blonde friend to follow suit. The two girls shook off the rain and stamped their feet for a moment before being seated three tables down from my own.

Rixon was still talking to me, prodding for answers, but I had tuned him out completely.

The redhead that had just scampered in had my full attention. She was shorter than her friend, but still tall as far as human girls go, and she held her self with impeccable composure: controlled expressions, straightened shoulders, and a slightly raised chin that others may assume is due to vanity. But I knew that it was more of a cagey, unassuming, and prudent notion. A hint of a smile tugged on my lips when she pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, missing some pieces. Due the black running pants and wide-necked sweatshirt she kept playing with, I could've assumed she just been at the gym, even if I hadn't already memorized her routines and schedules. The fact that she liked to exercise outside was only a small detail on my list of things I had learned about her. She only went to the gym when her blonde friend, the yo-yo dieter, dragged her along.

The hostess led the two girls to a table only a few down from my own. That wasn't good. For the last four weeks, I'd been watching her at the opposite side of the restaurant. Observing her as she would put her face on her hands and listen intently to whatever meaningless gossip the blonde was interested in that moment.

I slouched in my chair and angled my signature baseball cap to hide my face, trying to remain unnoticed. I felt an unfamiliar feeling, anxiety. I was unsure as to why though, I was never one to be scared or nervous for consequences when doing something blameworthy. I _had _to be smart here. I had a carefully devised plan, and her noticing me in a restaurant was definitely not going to float. Eventually, after I knew every detail I possibly could on her life, I was going to introduce myself as a random, perfect stranger. But this would happen on my time, when I said so.

The girl sat just a couple of yards away, stabbing her straw at the poor, defenseless ice cubes in her glass. The laughable irony, _defenseless_, just like her. With that last thought to guide me, I focused in on their conversation.

"I don't know about you, but I'm thinking we need to finish sophomore year off with a bang," announced the few pounds over curvy blonde, "No more ho-hum. This year has to be remembered by future classes. And nothing says memorable like snatching Joey Mancusi as my new beau. I already jump started my this-is-how-I'm-gonna-get-him plan. I Sharpied my cell number on his garage door. All I have to do now is sit back and wait.

The redhead was grinning at her friend, "For the restraining order?" The way her face lit up with the smile was beautiful. And she had no idea the effect she had.

Blondie argued, "What, you don't like obvious?"

"His parents are going to blacklist you. Hope you don't need a chiropractor anytime in the future, as his father's the only one in Coldwater," red reasoned, "Any way you look at it, seven digits on a garage door doesn't make for the best icebreaker."

I couldn't look away from her long barstool legs and elegant features. This week more than last, she was devouring my attention. She looked nothing like Chauncey, and I almost wished she did. Killing a creature such as herself was going to be more difficult than killing a girl who looked like my vassal. Only a small mark on her wrist confirmed their relations. It was the heritage mark of her Nephilim bloodline.

Thinking about her made my mouth twitch with the hint of a smile. I was over taken by the urge to make her cautiously perfect world crumble. One line, one conversation would be all it would take. I could make her blush with under five words, and I'd bet money on it. My train of thought was stopped by the pretty voice of my soon-to-be victim.

"Maybe next time go with a text. 'Hey Joey, here are my digits.' Works for the rest of the population."

Blondie sighed, "Fudge it. Snagging Joey Mancusi was a crapshoot anyway. What we need to do is set our sights elsewhere. Road trip to Portland. That would make Marcie blow steam out her ears. You and me hanging out with college guys while she modeled slutty swimsuits and prom dresses at J.C Penny in front of drooling, prepubescent freshmen."

I lost track of their conversation when Rixon scraped his chair across the floor.

"I give up," he stated, "I. Give. Up. What are you after?"

I sipped my coffee, "Quality time with you, my best buddy."

"See, when you lie to me it hurts. I thought we had something special. I thought our joint eternal sentences of damnation were our bond. I know you're up to something and if I have to, I'll beat it out of you."

"Give it a rest," I said with irritation tainting my voice.

Not giving up he continued, "I'd like to. Problem is, I'm not stupid."

"You act stupid," I put plainly.

"Right, thanks for that. For your information, there is a difference between acting stupid and being stupid," he said, offended.

Sarcasm coated my tone, "It's a fine line, but someone has to draw it."

Rixon smacked the table with both palms, "What are we doing here other than taking an honest stab at death by boredom? And if you don't come clean in the next three seconds, I'll make good on my threat to make a punching bag out of your arrogant smirk."

I spoke to his mind, _Patience. When I bring it up, this is what I'm talking about. _

He returned the gesture, keeping our talk private. _Digging up each other's flaws, are we? Tsk, tsk. That's no way to kindle a friendship. As for _your_ flaws, you've forgotten how to have fun. Why don't we go find a group of Nephilim to terrorize? _

He stood up, ready to leave. I stood with him, I was good at picking my battles, and this wasn't important enough. But suddenly, my conscious thought was over ruled by a certain blonde three tables down.

"Why can't any of the guys at school look like…those two guys over there? _Yowza." _ Too late did I realize she was referring to Rixon and me. When I looked in their direction they were staring at us. Well, this is extremely inconvenient.

I was still watching the redhead when Rixon's fist slammed into my jaw, her face was dominated by shock and her mouth formed an 'O'.

"Told you I'd beat it out of you," Rixon snorted. As he dodged around the table, trying to get out of my reach before I came to my senses.

When I was standing, Rixon barreled into me, slamming me against a wall and shattering a picture frame at the same time. When I looked into the corner of my eye, I saw _her_, gasping in alarm and confusion. Her expression egged me on.

I ducked the next punch, and that was Rixon's last chance to hit me. With a quick uppercut I had drilled his jaw. I was then focusing on attacking the midsection, aiming right for the ribs and flesh right around the stomach. That was when his arms dropped, trying to protect his core, and I moved my hits upwards. Once, twice. Twice more. I had landed five solid directs hits to his skull before Rixon shuffled backwards with his hands raised in surrender.

"You want me to scream uncle, that it?" Rixon huffed as he grinned. He was finally having fun for the first time all night.

When I looked up, the blonde from a few tables down was weaving through the tables, heading for us. She handed Rixon a napkin while saying, "You've got a little blood…"

"Thanks, love," he murmured as he dabbed the napkin around his mouth and winked at me.

I heard his voice slip into my head, _Said I wanted a girl closer to seven hundred, did I? I meant seven hundred…give or take._

I was not pleased with the attention our brawl had brought us, and I glared at the back of Blondie's head wishing I could mind trick her into going back to her table and ignoring us. But then Rixon would know that something was up with those specific girls. In less than a day, he wouldn't remember her name, but she would remember his, which posed a problem.

"So tell me love," drawled Rixon, "Ever ridden on a Ducati Streetfighter? I'm parked out back."

Blondie threw her purse strap over her shoulder and paused only for a moment, "Does your friend have a bike too? He could take my friend, Nora." She waved at me, and then shot her friend a look that said 'Come here right now'.

The redhead was exasperated as she warned her friend, "_Vee,_"

Blondie… erm, Vee ignored the silent caution as she faced Rixon, "First things first. Someone should clean you up. I took a babysitting course this summer. When it comes to nosebleeds, I'm your girl." She dragged Rixon with her to the restroom. But I knew he was cool because he said, "Lead the way, Nurse… Vee, was it?"

I ran my hand through my hair, and noticed the same expression of disbelief on the redhead's face. Two minutes earlier, I was in perfect control. But now, a Mack truck might as well have run over my plan and spit it out the mud flaps. The redhead shifted her weight and looked up at me before swiftly forcing her eyes to the kitchen doors. I frightened her. I wonder if it was a natural thing, or if somewhere, deep down, she knew what I planned to do to her.

I was unsure of my next move, because in my head, I couldn't help thinking about making her uneasy, but regretted the thought of it because I didn't want to scare her off. I liked being close to her.

She broke the silence, "Think you could tell your friend to cut back on the slickness factor? If he gets any oilier, third world countries are going to start looking to him as a supplier."

I smiled down at her only to be caught off guard. She was prettier up close. Much prettier. Guarded but expressive eyes, an aristocratic nose, a few freckles sprinkled across her nose, and her _hair_. It was wild, rebellious, and seductive. I really wanted to snap the pony tail holder that was containing it, watch it fall loose onto her shoulders.

Starting a conversation I said, "So, you're from around here?" I knew the answer. She's lived in Coldwater her entire life, in the same old farmhouse on the outskirts of town.

She tried to look distracted but responded, "It would seem so. And you are…?"

"Jev."

I could tell from the twist of her mouth that she thought it was an odd name. Most humans did, it was given to me hundreds of years ago, when I was still an angel.

"And you?" she asked, "Are you from around here? I haven't seen you before."

"I keep a low profile."

"Why's that?"

I shrugged, "You ask a lot of questions."

It was the truth, I could see more and more bubbling behind her thoughtful eyes. I couldn't have her ask the wrong questions, I needed to be in control. So I ended the conversation. I may have acted like a jerk, but considering the plans I had for her future, I could've been a lot worse. I wasn't expecting a pang of guilt in my stomach. I wanted her to keep talking to me, so I decided to replace my previous answer.

"I'm in town on business." It was vague, but enough information so she would hopefully continue talking.

"What kind of business," she questioned softly.

Hmm… "Genealogy. Tracking down long lost family members."

"Which family are you researching?" She looked as if she wanted to offer assistance. But the thing was I found who needed, and she was standing in front of me.

"Langeais."

"I'm not aware of any Langeaises in Coldwater." She almost sounded like she was accusing me of something.

I rubbed my thumb across my lips, wiping the smile that threatened to show, "Sounds like I've got my work cut out."

More questions, "How long are you planning to stay in town?'

"As long as it takes," I hinted, "It would speed things up if I had a tour guide, someone to show me around."

She had a wry smile, she knew I was flirting, but she was going to tease me.

"You're in luck. Vee is an _excellent _tour guide."

I was going to make her play into my game, "But I prefer redheaded tour guides."

She shrugged her shoulders, "Sorry, I don't know any redheads."

"Check the mirror this morning?" I asked playfully.

She tapped her nail to her lip drawing my attention. She was warming up to me; it was just taking a little longer than it would have with other girls. As far as I was concerned, the whole world was only us two. That was kind of scary, because I hadn't felt like that since I before I fell.

"I did. And I recall seeing a brunette."

So obviously she's deluded, "Might need to get your vision checked."

She didn't miss a beat, "So _that_ explains why you have three eyes, two horns, and one very yellow fang where your front teeth should be." She squinted and cocked her head at him.

I grinned, "Busted. I'm a monster. Jev is my deceptively harmless- and shockingly handsome- alter ego."

She smiled in triumph, "And I'm on top of it."

"Is that a Freudian slip?"

She blushed from my blunt response. Self-consciously shifting her weight, and then she decided on starting on a new topic.

"How long does it clean to take to clean a bloody nose?" she announced as she waved her arm towards the bathroom door.

I chuckled, "Not sure that's the only thing they're doing in there."

Her eyes were wide with obvious innocence. It was adorable.

"Maybe…Maybe you should go knock on the door."

That was not appealing to me for multiple reasons. Least of all because Rixon might be mad if interrupt something. Topping the list was the fact that I wasn't quite ready to stop talking to her.

"Won't do any good. The only thing that will get Rixon's attention is the sound of his bike starting. Someone breathes on it and he notices the condensation. You want get him out of there, that's your best option."

She stared incredulously, "You're saying I should take his bike for a ride?"

That was a joke. I doubted she even knew how to start it, let alone ride it.

"More like be my accomplice," I let the idea dangle.

"And you want me to go with you, why?"

If I was being honest with myself, it was so I could get her alone. And not so I could kill her. I dropped my gaze to her mouth, which I was secretly imagining planting a kiss on.

"Let me guess, you've never been on a Ducati Streetfighter." Not a guess. One look at her and even someone who hasn't been stalking her for months could tell she didn't do motorcycles. Did I say stalking? Wow, that sounds creepy.

She angled her chin higher in defiance, "How would you know that?"

"Ride one once, and that's all it takes. You're hooked." I hitched a thumb at the exit, "Now or never."

She almost looks like she contemplated it for a moment. "I don't just get on stranger's motorcycles."

Wow, she played the stranger danger card. I wonder if I could get her to make a bet with me.

"Oh c'mon… Don't be a pussy cat," I teased.

She bit her lip. Sexy.

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"Let's leave it up to fate. If I guess your favorite number, you come with me. If I don't, you can leave with your friend."

She hesitated, "Oh… _Alright._"

"To make sure don't cheat, I need you to write it down. And because there are a lot of numbers in this world, I want you to narrow it down for me."

"Fair enough. It's between one and twenty." She turned and wrote her number on a napkin, which she then promptly put behind her back. "To give you a fair warning," she continued, "You only get one guess. Are you sure your mind reading abilities are up to par?"

I snorted, "My mind reading abilities are great. Just be ready to go for the ride of your life." My innuendo made her blush a deep red.

I thought for a minute, about everything I'd learned about her in the past few months, about her personality, and about how her concentrated expression was driving me crazy. I was about to guess randomly when I saw Rixon sneak out of the bathroom.

I shot into his mind, _What number is written on the paper? _

He shook his head, _Why should I tell you?_

The redhead spoke, "You are taking forever. Hurry up, or I'm going to call it a forfeit."

_Please?! Be a friend._

_Alright, but next time we fight, I deserve a fair shot before you bust my face. _

_ Whatever you want._

_ Seventeen._

I spoke aloud, "Seventeen."

She gasped, but then composed herself, "You are a very good guesser. A deal's a deal."

I knew she was nervous by the way her eyes kept flickering between me and the door.

"You know, mate, I am ready to go home," called a rough Irish accent.

The redhead had spun around to see Vee waltzing out of the restroom waving her hand like a fan and mouthing 'Ooh La La'

"Guess I'm gonna have to take a rain check on that ride then," said the redhead to me.

I nodded, "Guess so."

Rixon grabbed his jacket and I grabbed mine. We started to walk towards the exit, but I stopped, turned my head, and smirked at the redhead.

"Goodbye, Nora." I said before walking out of the restaurant.

I only spoke her name for my own pleasure. This is really bad, because I had refused to even think it due to being afraid that I would start seeing her as a human being, not Chauncey's descendant. I didn't mean to say it, but I did. And now she was going to haunt me, even more than normal. Plus, she wouldn't remember our conversation, because I had to keep my plan on track. Tonight, while she and her friend are sleeping, their minds are going to be erased of ever seeing Rixon and myself at Enzo's.


	5. Biology 101

**A.N: Sorry about not updating often. I've been sick, and catching up on school work. I promise I'll be better at updating. Thank you to all of you have followed, favorited, and reviewed my story. It inspires me to keep writing, so keep 'em coming! **

Chapter 4

It was April, and I hadn't seen or spoken to Nora since our accidental encounter at Enzo's. I thoroughly missed her, and craved her. But I told myself that I was there for stage two of my plan; stage one being the stalk her part. However, if I was being honest, I just wanted to hear her voice, make her blush, and just feel the carefully constructed aura of emotions around her. So there I was, doing absolutely nothing productive, just delaying the inevitable. _Screw it._

I walked into the main office of Coldwater High School, handed an empty manila folder to the secretary, and mind tricked her into believing it was full. Five minutes later I was wondering the hallways with a schedule in hand: U.S. History, Biology, Study Hall, and English. U.S. History was going to be a piece of cake. After all, I had lived through the entire thing. English, not my best subject, I didn't particularly enjoy reading or writing, but my teacher was a younger female. I would just mind trick/ seduce her into passing me. Study Hall would be an hour and a half break from this damned place. Then there was _biology_. The only class I was really coming for, because _she_ was in it.

Moments later I was sitting in the Biology room next to some kid I had no desire to know. The only reason I chose this seat was because the table directly in front of me was occupied by a familiar face, a Ms. Nora Grey. The teacher, McConaughy, who was also the basketball coach, wanted me to introduce myself to the whole class. I really thought it was a bad idea. I may or may not have put it in his mind that I was in class for months and that I was fully introduced to the class. I could sense that he was scared of me, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He never called on me, or made me stay after to talk about how I didn't even try the tests. I sat behind her for about two weeks before I decided that I needed to be closer. For my plan's sake, of course…

I walked into Biology and immediately saw the Barbie and Ken dolls taped to the chalkboard. They were naked, besides a few leaves covering certain 'places'. It was laughable. Above the dolls, in Coach's terrible handwriting, there was a message.

"_WELCOME TO HUMAN REPRODUCTION (SEX)_"

This message brought a smirk to my face. While other kids were having conversations before the bell, I was putting the idea of a seating change into his head. The bell rang and most kids took their seats, because they were trying to prevent the outcome.

Coach blew the whistle that hung around his neck, "Seats, team!" and after a slight pause, he continued speaking, "It may not have occurred to you kids that sex is more than a fifteen-minute trip to the backseat of a car. It's science. And what is science?"

Some kid in the back yelled, "Boring."

"The only class I'm failing," called another.

Coach was looking for someone who was going to give a serious answer, I was about to tone him out, until he said, "Nora?"

"The study of something," she croaked.

"What else?" Coach prodded.

"Knowledge gained through experimentation and observation," she replied sounding like she was auditioning for the audio version of the textbook.

Coach sighed, "In your own words."

She thought for moment but tried again, "Science is an investigation." It almost sounded like a question.

"Science _is _an investigation. Science requires us to transform into spies. Good sleuthing takes practice."

Another kid from the back called, "So does sex."

"That _won't _be part of tonight's homework," concluded McConaughy. This was when I cut into his mind, and reminded him that he was going to switch seats.

"Nora, you've been sitting beside Vee since the beginning of the year," accused Coach as Nora nodded, "Both of you are on the eZine together," another nod from the redhead in the front, "I bet you know quite a bit about each other."

He turned his attention to the whole class now, "In fact, I'll bet each of you knows the person sitting beside you well enough. You picked the seats you did for a reason, right?"

I glanced beside me, the only reason I knew anything about the kid sitting next to me, was because I am really good at observing. For example, his name is Dylan but his Mom calls him Dilly Willy (someone shouldn't be texting during class), he has decent grades, and he was a twitching problem in his left arm that he is extremely self-conscious about.

Coach was still talking, "Familiarity. Too bad the best sleuths avoid familiarity. It dulls the investigative instinct. Which is why, today, we're creating a new seating chart."

A series of groans and mumbles went up as I relaxed into my chair, waiting for him to announce my seat, even though I already knew, because I had arranged for all of this.

Vee Sky protested, "What the crap? It's April. As in, it's almost the end of the year. You can't pull this kind of stuff now."

A smile twitched on my own face the same time it did on Coach's, "I can pull this stuff clear up to the last day of the semester. And if you fail my class, you'll be right back here next year, where I'll be pulling this kind of stuff all over again,"

Dylan turned to me and shrugged, "Guess we're not gonna be partners anymore."

I scoffed. Like he cared, I hadn't said five words to him the whole time I've been in class.

Coach kept talking, "Every partner sitting on the left-hand side of the table- that's _your _left- move up one seat. Those of you in the front row-yes, including you, Vee-Move to the back."

I picked up my stuff and replaced Vee's spot. Everyone was grumbling and smiting our teacher, but I was gloating. I was good. Nora sat and looked at me for a while, and not even a spark of familiarity hit her. Obviously my mind wipe was extremely thorough.

"Hi, I'm Nora," she smiled.

I looked into her eyes, and twitched a small smile that spelled trouble, with a promise. She looked away, almost looking frightened.

Coach was speaking again, "Human reproduction can be a sticky subject-"

He was cut off by groans and _ewww_'s.

"It requires mature handling. And like all science, the best approach is to learn by sleuthing. For the rest of class, practice this technique by finding out as much as you can about your new partner. Tomorrow, bring a write-up of your discoveries, and believe me, I'm going to check for authenticity. This is biology, not English, so don't even think about fictionalizing your answers. I want to see real interaction and teamwork," Coach practically threatened the class.

I didn't need to ask my partner any questions about her life, because I knew the vast majority of it. So I began to write. _Lives in farmhouse on outskirts of town, straight 'A' student, rule follower, drives a Fiat, control freak, plays the cello, sees a psychiatrist, judgmental. _

"What are you writing?" came an irritated voice on my right hand side.

"And she speaks English," I articulated as I wrote it on my paper, along with _Vee Sky is best friend_ and _attractive._ I crossed the last one out, so it no longer legible.

She craned her neck, trying to get a view of my paper, but I folded it up and put it away. She didn't need to know so early that I knew the details of her life, she might suspect something and I need her to trust me.

She tried again, "What did you write?"

As if I'd actually tell her. Instead, I took the paper she had set out to take my answers, made a ball of it, tossing it into the trash can with a _SWOOSH_. Her frustration was evident as she flipped to a clean page in her notebook.

""What is your name?"

I didn't reply, she was going to have to better than that if she wanted answers from me.

"Your name?" she insisted this time. Much better. I like a girl who refuses to take no for an answer.

I'm still going to make her blush, "Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me," I flirt as I winked at her.

"What do you do in your leisure time?"

"I don't have free time," I shot back.

She was getting angry, "I'm assuming this assignment is graded, so do me a favor?"

I leaned back and folded my arms behind my head, "What kind of favor?" It was meant to be an innuendo, and the red cheeks that faced me told me she understood my intention, she just didn't want to hear it.

"Free time. I take pictures," I offered. Not completely a lie, as I had an entire stack of pictures of one girl in particular…

She wrote _photography_ on her paper before I could continue, "I wasn't finished. I've got quite the collection going of an eZine columnist who believes there's truth in eating organic, who writes poetry in secret, and who shudders at the thought of having to choose between Stanford, Yale, and… what's that big one with the 'H'?" I tested her. I was dead on, and I knew it. Not because I've been following her, but because her face showed complete shock. Her reaction made me continue, "But you won't end up going to any of them."

She was taken aback, "I won't?"

I pulled her chair closer to mine, so our conversation could be more intimate, "Even though you'd thrive at all three schools, you scorn them for being a cliché of achievement. Passing judgment is your third biggest weakness."

"And my second?" she said with quiet rage.

"You keep life on a short leash." That was an understatement. She spent three days a week at the library, and the rest of her free time either with Vee-doing something normal-or studying. Rarely going anywhere but Enzo's, home, Vee's, or the mall.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're scared of what you can't control." I was intimidating her, and her agitation was clear. She looked like she wanted to demand a new seating chart, but I knew she wouldn't. Because that would mean admitting that I made her uncomfortable. "Do you sleep naked?"

"You're hardly the person I'd tell," she quipped. Feisty.

"Ever been to a shrink?" I knew the answer.

She lied, "No."

"Done anything illegal?"

"No," she repeated, "Why don't you ask me something normal? Like… my favorite kind of music?"

I declined, "I'm not going to ask what I can guess."

"You do not know the type of music I listen to," it was almost a question.

"Baroque. With you, it's all about control. I bet you play… the cello?" Neither of those were guesses.

"Wrong," she lied again.

I tapped the inside of her wrist, "What's that?" I knew what it was, I just wanted to know where _she thinks_ she got it, what _she thinks_ it means.

"A birthmark."

I taunted, "Looks like a scar. Are you suicidal, Nora? Parents married or divorced?" I actually wasn't sure of the second question, I hadn't really gone into too far of detail of her family. Just a basic family tree thing.

"I live with my mom," she avoided suspiciously.

"Where's dad?"

"My dad passed away last year."

I kind of feel bad for asking that question. But, the more information, the better.

"How did he die?" I pondered.

She flinched, "He was-murdered. This is kind of personal territory, if you don't mind."

I feel bad, but I am confused. Her birth father should be immortal, he's a purebred Nephil. I wonder if she's adopted but I don't ask that, "That must be hard."

The bell rang the very next second and I was out of my chair and heading toward the door when I heard her voice behind me, "Wait. I didn't get anything on you."

I knew she didn't, that was on purpose. I also wasn't planning on stopping and letting her get any information about me, but I couldn't help it. I needed to do one last thing, so I turned and walked back toward her. I grabbed her hand and with the pen I took out of her hand I wrote my number. And just like that I walked back towards the exit.

"I'm busy tonight," a certain voice called.

I turned my head, "So am I." And then I was gone.

I did hear a faint shout behind me though, "I won't call! _Not ever."_

Didn't go to my other classes that day. I left school and called Rixon to find a place to meet up for the rundown. I was ready to tell him everything-well, mostly everything-he was my best friend, after all. And who knows, he might even end up being semi-helpful.


	6. After School

**A/N: Really sorry for the long time before updates. I had a lot of softball and volleyball. But one of the seasons just finished, which will leave plenty of time for writing. Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them. I will do my best to post another chapter or two before the weekend ends. R & R !**

Chapter 5

After I left school, I met Rixon for lunch at the Borderline. I had planned on telling him the majority of my plan, but I decided against it. I still wasn't sure how _I_ felt about the situation; I didn't need his opinion too. We did have quite the conversation though.

"Where have you been for these past two weeks, mate?" questioned Rixon, "I haven't seen you any time before two, and you are always busy. What are you up to?"

I came somewhat clean, "I enrolled in Coldwater High School."

He scoffed, "No, seriously mate. Where have you been?"

"CHS, I told you. I'm not kidding. I have some business that needs attending to there."

This interested him, "What kind of business? Care to share, _friend."_

"Running errands for an old acquaintance, he needs some information on a few select students. And he's paying a hefty price for it," I lied naturally. Well, not completely. Someone was actually paying to get information on a few students, but I didn't need to enroll for it. They were kids seen frequently at Bo's.

"Oh, need any help?"

"Nah, man. I am actually meeting these kids at Bo's at six for a pool tournament," I wagged my eyebrows, "I'm on the in crowd now."

He choked on a laugh, "Mhm, whatever you say, mate. Well unless you plan on telling me anything important," he paused and looked at me meaningfully, he knew I was keeping something from him still, "I have some chick waiting for me at Delphic." And with that, he got up and left.

I practically jumped out of my seat and grabbed his arm, "Rix, I do need to tell you something. Do you remember a few months ago when I was talking about getting a human body or becoming a guardian?"

He nodded, "Yeah, so what?"

"I made my decision. I know what I want, and that is why I have been M.I.A. for a while."

"Whatever, keep lying to me if you want. I am gonna go find that girl now." And he left.

So my best friend knew I was hiding something, and when I told him the truth he thought I was lying. God damnit. I looked at my watch, black and chrome, it was five o'clock. I put money down on the table, and I left the Borderline. I had a phone call to make before I went to Bo's.

I had reached this man's voicemail so I left a brief message, "It's me. I am about to meet up with the suspects. They don't know anything. You know how to reach me."

An hour later I was in Bo's Arcade, starting a tournament with a bunch of high school seniors. I won every round. We had finished the first tournament at nine o'clock. I was two hundred dollars richer and the others were drained of energy, money, and pride. They left with solemn faces one of them even saying, "Asshole, you hustled us." This was true. I had hustled every one of them, but it was not my fault none of them learned from the one before.

I got a phone call just as some other regulars were racking a game up for us. It was a number that I had expected even though she had told me earlier that she wasn't going to call. Ever.

"Gimme a sec, guys," then I said to the voice on the phone, "What's up?"

"I'm calling to see if we can meet tonight. I know you said you were busy, but-"

I cut off her rambling, "Nora, thought you weren't going to call. Ever." I was mocking her, and I was sure she knew it. And I know for a fact that she hated eating her words, but she was more concerned with her forever teetering A/B grade in Biology.

"Well? Can we meet or not?" she grumbled.

I play with her, "As it turns out, I can't."

"Can't or won't?" she accuses angrily.

"I'm in the middle of a pool game. An important pool game," I said as I smiled to myself.

She persisted, "Where are you?"

I knew if I told her, she'd come, "Bo's Arcade. It's not your kind of hangout."

"Then let's do the interview over the phone. I've got a list of questions right-" she didn't finish because Andrew had come over, taken the phone out of my hands, and hung up. Oh well. Guess she was going to have to come find me.

Andrew took his pool very seriously and my delaying our game was irritating him. It was him and I versus these two rich, preppy college kids that were much too drunk to think clearly, and I'm sure that when they sobered up they would be pissed that they bet the deed to their beach house.

Next thing I know, I'm lined up for a bank shot when I hear a familiar voice yell my name. I dug my stick in to the table, and shot my head up to find a very surprising, and confusing picture. Nora Grey was seconds from being towed away by Bo, who looked very angry at her.

"She's with me," I said as the corner of my mouth tilted into an almost-smile.

Bo let her go, like I knew he would. I am an intimidating person, and Bo knows that well. Not to mention, I'm one of his best customers. She strode over to a spot about five feet in front of me.

I crossed to her, "Sorry about the hang up. The reception's not great down here." No need to rat out Andrew, I'd rather her attention be on me he meant no harm. I signaled with a nod of my head that the other guys needed to disappear for a few minutes. They all got it, but were not happy about it. As Andrew passed Nora, he bumped into her shoulder. He obviously blamed her for messing up our game. The other two just glared at her as they went to get another drink from the bar.

"Eight ball?" questioned Nora, "How high are the stakes?"

That widened my small smile, "We don't play for money."

She shrugged her purse on to the edge of the table, and held up her notebook, "Too bad. I was going to bet everything I have against you. A few quick questions and I'm out of here."

There were a few lines already filled in, I was surprised at what I saw, "Jerk? Lung cancer? Is that supposed to be prophetic?" Some may call me a jerk, but I am definitely not a smoker. Even if I did, it wouldn't have any effect on me. I can't feel anything. There was a third line that had been crossed off to illegibility, but I could've sworn it said _excellent physical shape_.

She fanned her notebook through the clouded atmosphere, insinuating her words before she spoke, "I'm assuming you contribute to the atmosphere. How many cigars a night? One? Two?"

I answered honestly, "I don't smoke."

Her expression immediately told me she didn't believe me. She made a small sound that sounded like an _Mm-hmm_ as she put her notebook down on the pool table to write. She hit the solid purple ball as she was writing; Andrew was not going to be happy about that if he noticed.

"You're messing up the game," I reprimanded as I stood there, smiling.

She shot back, "Hopefully not in your favor. Biggest dream?"

I think she thought I would take this seriously. "Kiss you." I mean it was a little true. Except I don't dream, and when I think about it, I'm about to kill her too.

"That's not funny," she calmly said as she blushed a pretty red.

"No, but it made you blush," I pointed out.

At this point she was trying to hide any motion. She moved herself to be sitting on the edge of the table before she began asking me questions again. She looked seriously hot with her legs crossed and her hair flowing down her shoulders.

"Do you have a job?" she asked.

Actually, I did. But it was more of a way to get closer to the kids I was doing some recon on. "I bus tables at the Borderline. Best Mexican in town."

"Religion?"

This was much harder to answer. Obviously I was shunned from Heaven, so I knew of a Heaven, a Hell, Angels, God, so on and so forth. But you can't just tell a person that. So I settled for, "Not religion…cult."

Surprised, Nora said, "You belong to a cult?"

Why not make a joke and make her feel uncomfortable, "As it turns out, I'm in need of a healthy female sacrifice. I'd planned on luring her into trusting me first, but if you're ready now…"

Her face dropped to almost irritated, "You're not impressing me."

"I haven't started trying yet." This statement was truer than she'd ever guess.

She slid off the table and stood straight across from me, much closer than I would've thought she'd dare. I was a head taller than she was.

She spoke, "Vee told me a senior. How many times have you failed tenth-grade biology? Once? Twice?"

This kind of pissed me off, "Vee isn't my spoke person."

"Are you denying failing?" she pushed.

"I'm telling you I didn't go to school last year," I dared her to ask farther. She'd get answers to question she hadn't even thought of yet.

"You were truant?" She almost sounded appalled; she was judging me from an incorrect statement.

I laid my pool stick across the table careful not to mess up the game, and motioned for Nora to step closer. She didn't. "A secret," I whispered, "I've never gone to school before. Another secret? It's not as dull as I'd expected."

I knew she wouldn't believe me, and the look on her face told me I was right.

"You think I'm lying," I accused her.

She answered carefully, "You've never been to school, ever? If that's true-and you're right, I don't think that it is-what made you decide to come this year?"

_Honesty is the policy_, I thought before saying, "You."

She paused a moment, she was contemplating whether she believed it or not. She was nervous, even if she was still trying to feign being annoyed. _Good._

When she found her voice she choked out, "That's not a real answer."

I stepped closer to her, for a better view. A few inches of air was all that was separating us. "Your eyes, Nora. Those pale gray eyes are surprisingly irresistible," I tipped my head for a different angel of her face, "And that killer curvy mouth."

She stepped away, I knew that it was coming it hurt, that she did so, "That's it, I'm out of here."

We both knew she wasn't done with me. She had to get at least one more question answered. So she ate her words-again-, "You seem to know a lot about me. More than you should. You seem like you know exactly what to say to make me uncomfortable."

Well, obviously. I'd been following her for months, it wasn't my fault she hadn't noticed me, "You make it easy."

Her eyes glinted with anger, "You admit you're doing this on purpose?"

"This?"

"This- provoking me."

"Say 'provoking' again," I laid out the flirtatiousness, "Your mouth looks provocative when you do."

That snapped her, "We're done. Finish your pool game." She grabbed my stick off the table and shoved it at me, I didn't take it. "I don't like sitting beside you," she ranted, "I don't like being your partner. I don't like your condescending smile. I don't like you." She thrust the pool stick out again and I took it.

That may have stung, if she hadn't been lying. Her jaw twitched in the middle of her ranting, which was a sure sign that Nora Grey was lying.

"I'm glad Coach put us together," I emphasized on Coach a little, noting the irony for myself.

"I'm working to change that," she retorted.

I was full out smiling as I reached toward her, and I noticed her get tense. I pulled a something out of her hair, and explained, "Piece of paper."

"That's an unfortunate place for a birth mark," she said.

I subconsciously pulled my sleeve back down over my wrist. That wasn't a birth mark. So casually I replied, "You'd prefer it someplace more private?"

"I wouldn't prefer it anywhere. I wouldn't care if you didn't have it all. I don't care about your birth mark period." She was trying to convince herself more than me.

"Any more questions? Comments?"

"No."

"Then I'll see you in bio," I noted as she turned and stalked up the stairs.

As soon as she was out of eye sight, I fixed the ball that she moved and put it back just in time for Andrew and the two college kids to get back. We began playing our game again, the only thing Andrew had to say to me was, "She looked a little too innocent to be your type."

I danced around the implied question, "She's my bio partner. The goody two-shoes couldn't leave the assignment unfinished."

We ended up winning the game, and the deed to their beach house. Not that I'd use it, but Andrew would. The two of us made a deal that he could keep it, as long as I got a key, in case I ever needed it. That was the last game I played at Bo's that night. I went back to my underground apartment at Delphic and sat on my couch until I got the phone call I was waiting for.

All the person on the other line said was, "Got your message. Deal's changed. All I need are the names, ages, and favorite hang outs of those kids. I have hired someone else to do the rest. Same price." The line went dead. I would leave him a message in the morning. I already had all that information; I would just need to arrange the time of transfer and the information. I was slightly shaken though. Who pays some ten thousand dollars to get such basic information? These kids must have really messed up.


End file.
